Poet: C. A. Lynch
Grieve, never forget in touch with pain;
Hold dear the memories, staunch against the rain.
A heart-tugging sorrow for those that are gone;
Slowly accept, until we can move on.
Every person grieving differently by choice;
Strength in remembering loving, patient voice.
Though grief is hard to traverse and may take time,
You will make it through each painful climb.
Poet: C. A. Lynch
My grief is heavy, my burdens deep,
Into confusion, my prayers creep.
But when I turn to Jesus's side
He comforts me and eases my stride.
In His arms a rest I will find,
His Word of peace helps to unwind.
Though the sorrow still lingers here,
Jesus' love drives out fear.
Poems to offer comfort:
Sympathy Poems
Condolence Poems
Christian Poems About Death
Poet: C. A. Lynch
God is with us always,
Through each joy and pain.
He wraps us up in warmth,
When we can no longer bear the strain.
His presence lingers close beside us
And provides us needful grace.
Though our sorrows often wound,
His mercy does not erase.
In moments of despair,
We find solace in His love's embrace.
Our hearts become lightened
As we claim the truth
That He will never leave our side,
Not even when faced with death
Or tears tightly held beside.
For God is always present at all times
No matter what the sorrow;
Here in our heart within
This very day and tomorrow.
Poet: C. A. Lynch
Grief is a long and winding road,
A path full of sorrowful woes.
It's never an easy thing to goad;
The process of healing rather slow.
Friends can be your biggest allies,
Share your struggles, lend you guide.
Remember the fondest memories,
Letting them bring peace not divide.
In prayer come together with strength
To help you make it through each day;
For time alone will make it end,
As your grief journey passes away.
Quotes About Grief
Poet: Ella Wheeler Wilcox
As the funeral train with its honored dead
On its mournful way went sweeping,
While a sorrowful nation bowed its head
And the whole world joined in weeping,
I thought, as I looked on the solemn sight,
Of the one fond heart despairing.
And I said to myself, as in truth I might,
"How sad must be this sharing."
To share the living with even Fame,
For a heart that is only human.
Is hard, when Glory asserts her claim
Like a bold, insistent woman;
Yet a great, grand passion can put aside
Or stay each selfish emotion,
And watch, with a pleasure that springs from pride,
Its rival — the world's devotion.
But Death should render to love its own.
And my heart bowed down and sorrowed
For the stricken woman who wept alone
While even her dead was borrowed;
Borrowed from her, the bride — the wife —
For the world's last martial honor.
As she sat in the gloom of her darkened life.
With her widow's grief fresh upon her.
He had shed the glory of Love and Fame
In a golden halo about her ;
She had shared his triumphs and worn his name:
But, alas! he had died without her.
He had wandered in many a distant realm,
And never had left her behind him;
But now, with a spectral shape at the helm.
He had sailed where she could not find him.
It was only a thought, that came that day
In the midst of the muffled drumming
And funeral music and sad display,
That I knew was right and becoming;
Only a thought as the mourning train
Moved, column after column,
Bearing the dead to the burial plain
With a reverence grand as solemn.
Poet: Samuel Fletcher
Weep no more, nor sigh, nor groan,
Sorrow calls no time that's gone;
Violets plucked, the sweetest rain
Makes not fresh nor grow again; -
Trim thy locks, look cheerfully;
Fate's hidden ends eyes cannot see:
Joys as wingfed dreams fly fast,
Why should sadness longer last?
Grief is but a wound to woe;
Gentlest fair one, mourn no more.
Poems To Say Goodbye:
Funeral Poems To Say Goodbye
Funeral Poems for Grandma
Funeral Poems for Mother
Poet: Caleb Davis Bradlee
Sad are the hearts met here to-day,
And heavy is our grief;
Be thou, God, the light and way
Unto a sure relief.
In prime of life, at manhood's hour,
This heavy blow has come;
And parents dear did feel thy power,
When thou didst call him home.
They loved him much, they hardly know
Why they should give him up!
But wilt thou, Father, gently show
How they shall drink the cup?
And let them look right through the gate
That leads to Thee above;
And may they sec his royal state
All hallowed by thy love.
And guardian angel let him be
Over their home and heart;
May he by thine all-wise decree,
A daily grace impart.
Let father, mother, brothers dear,
All bow unto thy will;
And calm each thought, and stay each fear,
And speak thy "Peace, be still!"
This author's grief over the passing of her father brought her to write this poem. She missed their talks and walks together and is reminded of these things when she goes for walks in the same places she use to take with her father. Being reminded of our grief in our everyday routines makes mourning for someone you miss that much harder. It's part of the process that most of us cannot get around. We all have to come to terms with not having that person in our everyday life anymore. This poem speaks to that truth.
Poet: Katharine Tynan
I heard them talk of the mountains,
The kind and innocent folk:
Something troubled the fountains
The grief in my heart awoke.
My heart was a heart that broke;
Something troubled the fountains;
The grief in my heart awoke
When they talked of the mountains.
Over the mountain blue,
By the fields and the winding boreen,
I walked and I talked with you
In days that are over, asthoreen.
We walked together, asthoreen,
When the blackbird sang in the dew;
As we talked by the fields and the boreen
My heart was a bird that flew.
Now it is heavy as lead,
No matter how fine the weather;
It falls like a thing stone-dead
That once was light as a feather.
We walked and we talked together,
And pleasant the things we said:
The larks sprang out of the heather.
Och, many's the tear I've shed!
The kind and innocent people
Discourse of the mountains still.
I think of a low grey steeple
And the graves lying under the hill.
Ochone these Summers are chill!
They were meaning nothing, the people,
My heart went crying its fill
For a new grave under the steeple.
